


little secrets

by ymorton



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Dom/sub, Light Bondage, M/M, Medical Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Roleplay, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five kinks harry and niall tried</p>
            </blockquote>





	little secrets

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr, nov. 2014 
> 
> come say hello [here](http://www.ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com)!

**one:**

“If you could just bend over for me, Mr. Horan." 

Niall huffs out a nervous breath, and bends over the kitchen counter. The counter comes up to about mid chest on him, though, so it’s less of a bend and more of a… lean. It doesn’t feel that effective. 

He feels a pair of cold, rubber-gloved hands slide under his shirt, and he closes his eyes. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"Now,” the voice says, low. “What I’m going to do you may hurt slightly, but you should also feel a release of pressure." 

"Kay,” Niall says, his voice wobbling. 

There’s a pause, and then Harry says, “Shit, I should’ve made you take your jeans off first." 

Niall opens his eyes. 

"Also, this counter’s too high for you,” Harry says, fussily. “I won’t be able to, like, get really deep." 

Niall lets out a sigh. "Harry-" 

"Dr. Styles." 

"I’m not gonna call you that when we’re not- god. Dr. Styles, maybe we should try the kitchen table. Bit lower, innit?" 

"That’s a great suggestion, Mr. Horan,” Harry says, back in his authoritative doctor’s voice, which is really just his normal voice, except with a weird posh accent that Niall burst out laughing at the first time he heard it. 

“And should I take my jeans off, Dr. Styles?" 

"Yes, Mr. Horan, I think that’s a good idea,” Harry says, patting his back gently. “Up you get." 

Niall straightens up, unzips his jeans. 

He has them halfway down his thighs when Harry says, "That’s enough." 

"But I-" 

"That’s enough,” Harry says, voice firm. “This is a medical exam, I don’t need you to be naked, Mr. Horan. Now please, if you don’t mind. Over the table." 

Niall swallows hard, and staggers over to the table, clumsily. He still has his pants on, and he can feel the hard weight of his prick bobbing with each step, pressing against the cotton. He’s  _hard_ , just from this. 

He puts his hands on the table, still sticky from where Harry accidentally spilled raspberry jam this morning. Niall winces. He’d sort of like to take a two-minute break from his "medical exam” to wipe it up, but then Harry’s sliding his big hand up Niall’s back under his shirt, still in those cool smooth latex gloves, and Niall just bends, breath going out of him in a shaky whoosh of air. 

He drops his head, and Harry presses at his spine. 

“Take a couple deep breaths for me, please,” he says softly. 

Niall breathes. 

“That’s good,” Harry murmurs. “Great job." 

"I’m ace at breathing,” Niall says, making it sarcastic, and Harry huffs out half a laugh before he catches himself. 

“I know you’re nervous, Mr. Horan, but if you just focus we can get this over with.”

Niall’s usual response to someone telling him not to be sarcastic is either a rude gesture or more sarcasm, but this time he just nods. 

“Thank you,” Harry says, sounding like he really means it. “Now we’re going to begin the rectal exam-" 

"Don’t say rectal!” Niall yelps. “Don’t - god. I don’t care how authentic you’re tryin’ to make this, rectal is not-" 

"Anal?" 

"No,  _god_ , Harry. Shut up." 

Harry reaches around quick as anything and twists Niall’s nipple between two fingers. Niall whines, twitching away.

"Dr. Styles,” Harry says, patting Niall’s back with the flat of his hand. “And please leave the exam to the professional, Mr. Horan." 

Niall rolls his eyes, and then shudders all over when Harry drags both his hands down Niall’s hips, taking the pants with them, down to his knees. Niall shifts his legs apart as far as he can. His thighs are trembling. 

"I’m going to insert a finger inside you now,” Harry says, voice slow. “So I’m going to need you to relax." 

Niall shuts his eyes, tries to open his legs wider. The binding of his jeans and pants around his thighs is terrifying, for some reason, sets up a steady thump of panic in his head, but he just - he sighs, when Harry rests a hand against his back again. 

"You okay?” Harry says, low. “Niall?" 

"Fine,” Niall mumbles. He drops his head, breathes out hard through his mouth. “Fine. Just do it." 

"You might feel a slight tingle,” Harry says, stepping away for a second, and Niall hears a bottle click open. “And a cool sensation. My - uh, my medical gel, uh, is cold. But I’ll warm it up for you." 

Niall feels the first brush of a slick finger between his thighs and jerks away, helplessly. 

"Wait, what is it, what are you putting in my arse,” he says. 

“It’s just lube,” Harry whispers. “I promise." 

Niall nods, keeping his eyes closed. He sighs quietly when Harry rubs his finger over Niall’s hole, getting him nice and slick. His fingertip works slowly past the rim, and Niall’s mouth falls open. 

"Breathe for me, Mr. Horan,” Harry whispers.  

“M'breathing,” Niall chokes out. 

“Deeper, please. You’re tight." 

A warm shameful flush of pleasure goes through Niall at the words, said offhand as Harry works him open on one finger. 

"Thought that was a good thing,” he says, wanting Harry to talk about him more, and Harry obliges him. Good lad. 

“Oh, it is,” he says, circling his finger. It’s not nearly enough to get Niall off, but it feels nice, it feels good inside him. “I’ve seen a lot of people, Mr. Horan, but you- you take it very well. It’s almost like you enjoy it." 

Niall should laugh, but his stomach’s hot with pleasure. He puts his face down into his hands, arches his hips, wanting to be filled more. 

"I think you could take two, what do you think?” Harry murmurs. 

“You’re the professional,” Niall says, voice choked. 

“Good lad,” Harry says warmly, and he slips two fingers inside, thick and long. It’s weird with the gloves on, like Harry’s wearing a condom on his hand, but Niall likes it. Likes the strange, impersonal feeling of it. 

“Good,” Harry murmurs, when Niall lets out a harsh breath. “Now I’m going to feel for your prostate. This is all standard, part of the exam. You may feel a - a tingle." 

His fingers curve left, fingertips pressing inside him, until Niall whimpers, fists his hand on the tabletop, trying not to bear needily down on Harry’s hand.

"You also may feel some pleasure,” Harry whispers, working his fingers in little pulses. “That’s natural. Nothing to be ashamed of." 

” _Shit_ ,“ Niall gasps out. "Shit." 

"It’s alright,” Harry says calmly. “Do you have an erection, Mr. Horan?" 

Niall doesn’t respond, distracted by the methodical rhythm of Harry nudging against his prostate. His pulse is thumping in time to it, blood pulsing in his dick. 

"Mr. Horan,” Harry says, and draws out his fingers. Niall whines at the loss. 

“What the fuck, Har- Dr. Styles." 

Harry chokes out a laugh that he tries to disguise as a cough. 

"Do you have an erection, Mr. Horan?” he says. “It’s natural. I often have to take care of them. As part of the, the exam." 

Niall makes a little sound in his throat. He feels empty, and he wants Harry’s fingers back. He’s embarrassed of how much he wants them.

"Yeah,” he says. His voice is hoarse. “I’m sorry, Dr. Styles, I didn’t mean to-" 

"Oh, it’s alright,” Harry says, comfortingly. “Can I help you with that?" 

"Please,” Niall breathes out, and his forehead thunks against the table when Harry smoothly pushes two fingers into him again, slides his other hand around to where Niall’s dick is hard and leaking. 

“There you are,” Harry says, breathlessly, giving him a long tight stroke from root to tip as he braces himself with his arm to get his fingers deep. Niall shivers under the touch. 

“Please,” he says, so thick he can barely understand himself. “Please, shit." 

"Just breathe,” Harry whispers, starting to jerk him off. His hand is slick and cold and Niall feels every stroke to the very tip of his toes. His head’s spinning. “Let me relieve some of that pressure. It’s alright. That’s good. You’re doing so well-" 

He twists his fingers and Niall groans, works himself back against Harry’s hand. 

"Dr. Styles,” he says, breathlessly. “You can do three." 

"Yeah, I think you’d respond well to that,” Harry murmurs, and Niall grunts when Harry pops another finger past his rim, works all three in at once. He clenches around them, and Harry rubs his latex-gloved thumb over the tip of Niall’s cock. 

“How’s that feel? Verbal feedback is very good. Helps me do my job right-" 

"Shut up, Dr. Styles,” Niall groans, rocking his hips back, feeling his orgasm coming, like a fucking freight truck. He can feel how he’s clenching around Harry, and it’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t so far gone.

Harry laughs, giddy and soft over the wet sounds of his fingers inside Niall and on his prick. “That’s not the way to speak to a- a medical professional-" 

"God,  _fuck_ , yeah,” Niall gasps out, and he smacks the kitchen table hard, comes all over Harry’s hand, hips jerking. 

Harry laughs again, a joyful sound, works Niall through it. 

“That’s so good,” he says, voice humming through Niall’s orgasm haze. “Well done, Mr. Horan." 

"Alright,” Niall breathes out, laughing a little himself. Harry’s hand slips out of him, and Niall slumps forward against the table, gusts out a sigh. 

“Can I, um,” Harry says, putting his hands on Niall’s arse cheeks. He pulls him apart a little, playing with the flesh, and Niall groans, spent, still liking how it feels. “Can I, like." 

"Wow, Dr. Styles,” Niall mumbles. “That’s pretty unprofessional." 

Harry laughs, skims his fingers down Niall’s crack, against his hole again. He’s still wearing the gloves. 

"Fuck, you’re so- wet,” he says. “And, like, open. Fuck, can I? I can just have a wank, if you want-”

“Go at it, Doctor,” Niall says, waving a lazy arm back at him. 

“You’re sure?" 

"Yeah, idiot, go on." 

He hears Harry unzip, and he laughs into his folded arms, hitches his hips up and waits. 

**two:**

It takes Harry about two minutes of being tied up to start begging. 

"Please,” he starts off with. His voice is cracking, dick pressed hard against his belly. His wrists and ankles are cuffed to the bed. They bought all the stuff special, got drunk and went online shopping and it got Harry horny just to look at it. He slipped down onto his knees right there, when Niall still had the fucking laptop on his lap. 

“Please what, Styles,” Niall says, still kicking off his jeans. God, Harry’s dick looks good. Niall’s not sure if he wants it in his arse or his mouth. 

Harry grunts in frustration, and Niall watches  _Harry’s_  mouth, all slick and wet and bitten-full. Shit, maybe he’ll need that first. 

He crawls into bed, puts his hand on Harry’s heaving belly. 

“Please, fuck, do something,” Harry says roughly. “I swear to god, Niall, I’ll come in like a minute, m'so fucking  _hard_ , God." 

"Yeah, mate, I can see that,” Niall says, casually running a finger up Harry’s dick. He’s practically throbbing. Niall can see a vein pulsing, can see Harry’s stomach muscles twitching.  

“Please,  _god_ ,” Harry bites out, throwing his head back. He tugs against the wrist restraints, which only gets him harder. He gives a long visible shudder, all the way down his body. “God, what the - fuck, why haven’t we tried this before? This is mental. You have to try it." 

Niall will at some point, but this is about Harry right now. 

Well - mostly about Harry. Niall can still get off. 

"How do you fancy sucking me off?” he says, slinging his leg over to straddle Harry’s torso. He sits down for a second, feels Harry’s hot hard cock press against his bare arse, and Harry chokes out a groan. 

“Yeahh, fuck,” he says dazedly, rocking his hips up, opening his mouth. Completely fucking open for business. 

“What a slag,” Niall says to him, softly, shuffling up his body. “What a fuckin’ slag you are, huh?" 

"Yeah,” Harry repeats, his pretty pink mouth falling open. Christ, that mouth. Fucking made for dick, Niall’s always thought so. Wide and soft and generous and so, so hot when Niall takes Harry by the chin and carefully feeds him his cock. Harry grunts, tries to sit up, gets pulled down by the restraints. Niall’d probably panic if he were in that position, but Harry just goes utterly pliant, groaning around Niall’s dick, sucking messy and wet. 

“Fuck, that’s nice,” Niall says, admiringly. He touches Harry’s forehead, slick with sweat. “Your fucking lips, Harry." 

Harry makes a low, rough sound, then pulls off as best he can. 

"Fuck my mouth,” he gasps out. “Please, shit, do it." 

Niall doesn’t need to be asked twice. He sits back on his haunches, gets Harry’s mouth in position by tugging at his hair - not too hard, even though it makes Harry twitch and look ecstatic - and slides his dick in again. 

Harry gags a few times, but each time he gasps out hard, barely pulls off, keeps his mouth open and willing, so Niall doesn’t worry too much. He thrusts in and out steadily, strokes Harry’s flushed cheeks, his soft hair. Traces around the outline of his dick in Harry’s stretched cheek, which makes Harry moan around him. 

"Such a good cocksucker,” Niall whispers, when he’s close, his thighs trembling and starting to ache. “God. So good." 

There’s tears glistening on Harry’s cheeks, and Niall stares at them dazedly when he comes, down Harry’s silky hot throat. 

He pulls out slowly, and his dick slips off Harry’s slack bottom lip. Harry has his eyes shut, and he’s panting, loud shallow breaths. 

"Alright?” Niall says cautiously. 

“Yeah,” Harry croaks out. “Need to come." 

"Oh, poor little Styles,” Niall says, grinning down at him. “You gonna beg for it?" 

Harry opens his eyes. They’re rimmed with red, liquid-dark, and he’s still breathing hard. 

"Please,” he says, voice completely shot, rough and low. “Please, please, let me come." 

Niall shivers. Oh.  _Oh_. 

"Please,” Harry repeats, staring up at him like Niall’s - everything, his salvation or sommat. It makes something in Niall’s stomach go warm and liquid, like it’s melting. “Please." 

"Alright,” Niall says shakily, and he climbs off Harry, skims his hand over the top of Harry’s aching red dick. 

Harry twists against the restraints, gasps. 

“It’s alright, I got you,” Niall mumbles, curling his hand around Harry’s dick. “It’s alright." 

He ducks his head, kisses at the tip, sucks hard and jerks him off at the same time, and Harry spurts hard like he’s been waiting, a low groan spilling out of his mouth and his hips jerking up. 

Niall nearly gags on Harry’s dick, suddenly halfway down his throat and twitching hot come in his mouth, and he jerks his head away, tugs Harry through the rest of it, letting him spill on his belly. 

He lets Harry be after he’s done, watches him carefully. Harry’s shivering like he’s still coming, his limbs twitching. 

"Can you,” he says, and has to clear his throat. “Can you t-take the cuffs off." 

"Yeah,” Niall says quickly, rolling off the bed to fetch the key. 

He undoes all four of the restraints, and Harry lies spread-eagled like a starfish, his chest heaving with deep breaths. 

“Alright?” Niall asks. “Like. Should I do something?" 

"Just c'mere,” Harry breathes out, and when Niall lies down next to him Harry wraps his arms around Niall’s shoulders, tugs him in close, puts his face into Niall’s neck.

He’s trembling a little. 

Niall pets his back gently, then his sweat-damp curls. “You’re alright,” he murmurs. “You’re alright, love." 

"That,” Harry mumbles out. “That was really bloody good." 

Niall huffs a laugh. "Yeah, was alright, I guess." 

Harry pinches his side, snuggles closer into Niall’s chest. It doesn’t work out that well, considering he’s about half a foot taller, but he tries. 

"Shh,” Harry mumbles. “Sleeping now." 

"You’re covered in come, Styles. Jesus fuckin’ Christ." 

Harry smiles a little, eyes shut, and pats sleepily at Niall’s head. "Shhhhh." 

**three:**

"You know,” Harry says. “I don’t usually do this." 

"Yeah?” Niall says, stomach twisting nervously. He’s on the bus, and Harry’s cracking open two bottles of beer. “I’ve heard rumors." 

Harry smiles at him. "Don’t believe everything you read, kid." 

_Kid_. That’s nice. Niall likes that, shit. 

He accepts the opened bottle, takes a long gulp. 

"This is where, we, you know, hang out after the show,” Harry says, nodding at the tiny bus kitchen. 

“It’s nice,” Niall says, looking around like he’s never seen it before. “It’s cool." 

"Thanks,” Harry says, and he takes a long pull from his beer. He’s leaning against the counter, legs long and lean and shirt unbuttoned half down his chest, skin still shining with a leftover sheen of sweat from the show. He didn’t change afterwards like Niall did, or shower. Niall wanted it that way. 

Niall nods, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His heart’s beating a bit faster than normal, which is silly, because it’s just  _Harry_. He sips his beer again. 

“But you didn’t come here just to hang out,” Harry says, softly. “Did you?" 

Niall huffs out a laugh. "What makes you think that?" 

Harry shrugs, playing along. His eyes are very bright. 

"You’re nervous,” he says. “You followed me back here. You keep looking at my dick." 

Niall looks at Harry, surprised, and Harry grins slow. 

God, maybe he has used these fucking lines on girls he takes home after their shows. Niall should be insulted, but instead he feels sort of good about it, slutty. 

"Think you have the wrong idea, mate,” he says, sipping his beer, and letting his eyes drag all the way down Harry’s torso until they reach the bulge in his jeans. 

Harry grins wider. 

“Why don’t you come over here and show me what you came here for, then?” he says, softly. “Don’t tell me it was just for a beer and a chat." 

_Niall_ -Niall, normal-Niall, would shove Harry backwards and laugh in his face. 

But he’s not himself, that’s the whole - point. That’s what he wanted, to not fucking be himself for once. 

So instead of laughing, he goes to his knees. 

Harry murmurs approvingly, touching Niall’s hair as he crawls closer, reaching out for Harry’s hips. 

"That’s what I thought,” he says. “You seemed like the type." 

"What type,” Niall mumbles, undoing Harry’s zip. The back of his neck is burning hot, and he’s hard, dick throbbing in his pants. 

“Starfucker,” Harry whispers, hushed like a dirty secret. “Desperate for famous cock." 

Niall lets out a harsh breath, the words skittering over his skin. 

"Go on then,” Harry says, sliding his hand slowly through Niall’s hair. “Open up." 

"Shit,” Niall mutters to himself, and he curls his hand around Harry’s thick dick, guides it down into his mouth. There’s saliva gathering slick on his tongue, and it makes the slide of it easy. Niall breathes in deep, stomach thrilling at the smell of him, musky and familiar. 

“That’s good,” Harry murmurs, stroking his fingers down to the back of Niall’s neck. “You’ve practiced for this, huh? Thought about it." 

God, Harry needs to shut up, or Niall’s gonna fucking come in his jeans. He presses a hand down against himself, sucks Harry exactly how he wants to, messy and sloppy and desperate. Hungry. 

Harry lets him nurse at his dick for a while, groaning softly with approval, stroking Niall’s hair, and then he pushes him back by the forehead. 

"What?” Niall chokes out, throat aching. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His dick’s pulsing steadily now, wanting to be touched, or maybe wanting to be ignored for a while more and  _then_  touched. He can’t decide. 

“What do you think?” Harry says, his cheeks flushed pink. He tugs up his jeans. “Does it live up to the hype?" 

Niall laughs roughly. 

"You want it in your arse?” Harry asks, quieter. “Sometimes groupies want to suck, sometimes they want to fuck. You seem greedy enough to want both, am I- am I right?" 

Niall looks up at him, wide-eyed. Harry’s eyebrow raises, and he half-smiles, breaking out of character for a soft second. Niall’s stomach settles, reassured. 

"Unless you want to go,” Harry adds, shrugging like he couldn’t care less. 

“No,” Niall says, low. “I don’t want to go." 

Harry cups his chin. 

"Follow me then,” he says, and he pulls Niall to his feet. 

Niall follows him about ten feet to the left, to the sofa. Harry sits, spreading his legs wide, lifting his arse to wriggle his jeans down to his knees. His cock bobs up, hard and flushed and slick from Niall’s mouth, and Harry watches him watch it. 

“What do you think?” he says. “I think you’d feel really good sitting down on it for a while." 

"Jesus, Harry,” Niall mutters, rubbing his hand over his jaw, staring at him. 

Harry splays his legs even wider, jeans falling down to his ankles. He gives himself a long slow stroke with one hand, watching Niall. 

“Condoms are in my wallet,” he says. “Kitchen table. Fetch ‘em for me?" 

Niall swallows hard, and turns around. 

He finds the condom, the packet of lube, takes them back to Harry. 

"Here,” Harry says, tossing the lube back to him. “Get yourself ready. Bet you do it all the time." 

Niall swallows again, dryly, and unzips his jeans. 

Harry looks at him with widening eyes when he sees Niall’s not wearing any pants underneath. That was the one change Niall made, post-show - took his pants off and then put his jeans back on, feeling deliciously dirty about it. 

"God,” Harry breathes. “You’re really a slag, aren’t you?" 

Niall shrugs, and reaches behind him with one hand even though his fingers are dry, wanting to keep that dazed expression on Harry’s face. 

"Tell me what you think about,” Harry says, voice low. “When you finger yourself. Think about taking me?" 

"You,” Niall says, licking his lips, stomach hot. “You, the others. The band. Whoever’ll have me." 

Harry groans, jerking himself off with more intent. "That’s so fucking hot, Christ." 

Niall rips open the lube, and says, "I want - I want you to get me ready." 

"C'mere, then, sweetheart,” Harry murmurs, beckoning him forward, and Niall climbs onto his lap, puts his face against Harry’s neck and inhales the scent of sweat and faded cologne, groans when Harry presses two slick fingers up against his hole. 

“Bear down, love,” Harry says, rubbing, and Niall lowers his hips, eyes squeezing shut as Harry’s fingers slip past his rim. God, that’ll always be so good, Harry’s long solid fingers, working inside him cleverly. That’ll always be Niall’s favorite fucking thing, when Harry gets deep enough that Niall can feel the cool metal of his rings pressed to the rim of his arse. 

He groans, and Harry echoes it, crooking his fingers. 

“Look at you,” he says, breathless against the top of Niall’s head. “So hard for this. God. Should’ve told the others, let them come watch. Let them try you out." 

Oh, god, it’s fake, it’s so fake, but Niall whimpers at the thought anyway. 

"Take you,” Harry murmurs, pressing his rough fingertips to Niall’s prostate. “One after another-”

“Fucking -  _Harry_ , just do it, I’m ready,” Niall chokes out, rocking down onto Harry’s hand. “Do it, fuck, please." 

"Alright, love, calm down,” Harry says, sounding amused, and when he guides Niall down onto his dick Niall lets out an embarrassing noise of relief. It just feels so fucking good, is the thing. So good it shoves all the thoughts out of Niall’s brain, leaves him mindless and hungry for more. 

“Fuck,” Harry sighs, putting his arm around Niall’s waist, the other on his jaw, gentle. “Fuck that’s nice. You feel so good." 

"Tight?” Niall chokes out, needing the affirmation. 

“Tighter,” Harry chokes out, thrusting his hips up, and Niall moans at the sudden fullness. “T-tighter than I expected. Con-considering how you get around." 

Niall grins, rolls his hips, grabbing at Harry’s shoulder to brace himself, and neither of them talk for a while. 

Right before he comes - bouncing instead of rolling now, because each thrust hits his prostate fucking  _perfectly_  that way - Harry reaches up into Niall’s hair, grabs a handful. 

"Feel so good,” he gasps, obviously close himself, head thrown back and his face glistening with sweat. “God, Niall, you feel so good-" 

Niall puts his teeth against Harry’s collarbone and comes, helplessly. 

"Shit,” Harry chokes, as he follows him over the edge, jerking his hips up. 

Niall collapses against Harry when he’s spent, his face in Harry’s neck.  He kisses over the bitemark he left, contritely, and Harry puts both hands on his back, lets out a gust of breath against his ear. 

“Fuck,” he says. “That was incredible." 

"I’d say it did,” Niall says, muffled into Harry’s skin. “Live up to the hype.”

Harry huffs a laugh, puts his slack mouth against Niall’s temple and exhales slowly. 

“Glad you followed me back here,” he says. “Groupie." 

"Shut up,” Niall laughs, and Harry pulls his face over for a kiss. 

**four:**

“Like,” Niall says doubtfully. “Like we’re trying to get pregnant, or like you’re already pregnant?" 

Harry hums thoughtfully. He’s lying in bed next to Niall, on his back with his knees tucked up, a pillow over his feet.

"Dunno,” he says. “Both, maybe? Like the first time could be like, we’re trying. And then the second time could be like I’ve gotten knocked up." 

Niall looks over at him, and Harry looks back. 

"We don’t  _have_  to,” he says, his eyes dark and round. “If it’s too weird." 

"It’s kinda weird." 

Harry’s face falls, and Niall reaches over, pats him on the chest. 

"But you did put on latex gloves for me, didn’t ya, Dr. Styles. Suppose I could knock you up.”

“Really?” Harry says, softly. 

“Yeah, let’s do it. If it’s not good, we’ll just, like, stop. No harm done." 

Harry’s face lights up slowly, his eyes softening and his mouth tugging up at the corners. Niall watches him helplessly, something very strong tugging at his heart. God, he’d do anything to see Harry make that face. He’ll go to fuckin Lamaze classes and buy Harry a bloody maternity dress as long as Harry smiles just like that.

"Thanks,” Harry says, and Niall leans over to kiss him. 

–

He’s not exactly sure how it’s done. Harry hasn’t gone into detail, and Niall doesn’t really want to ask, so he does a bit of Googling. It’s all a bit intense, and he stumbles onto some kind of website full of people literally discussing  _Harry_ , himself, getting pregnant, so he shuts that down pretty quick. 

Well. He’ll just wing it. How hard can it be? 

They settle for a Friday night, after a long day of photoshoots. Niall takes Harry back to his house with Nando’s and a six-pack and after dinner Harry clears away the dishes, cleans up. 

“Haz,” Niall says, watching the way Harry rinses the dishes. God, he’s terrible at it, Niall will have to do them over. There’s literal pieces of food still stuck to them. “Should we go to bed, after this?" 

Harry turns a smile on him. "Yeah, babe." 

Babe. That’s sort of new. 

Niall stands up, chewing his bottom lip. 

"Special night, innit,” he says, going up to Harry and putting his arms around his waist. Christ, he really wishes he were taller sometimes. 

Harry rests his damp hands over Niall’s for a moment, before he goes back to his dish-washing. 

“You’re sure about this?” he says, softly. “I mean, you think we’re ready?" 

Niall’s not sure if Harry means ready for a baby or ready to try pretending that they’re in any way biologically capable of having a baby. He decides not to ask. 

"Yeah, I think so,” he says, putting his cheek to Harry’s back. “You’ve been waiting long enough, haven’t you?" 

"But I want you to want it too,” Harry says, voice low. “Do you, do you want to do this with me?" 

Niall turns him around, reaches up for a kiss. Harry’s mouth tastes like beer and peri-peri sauce. Romantic. 

"Yeah,” Niall breathes, and he slides his hand down until he’s touching Harry’s stomach through the shirt. Harry goes tense, looks at him with dark eyes, lips parted. 

“Yeah, I want to do this,” Niall says, stroking his hand in a slow circle. 

Harry kisses him again, and takes Niall’s hands in his, brings him to bed. 

They’ve fucked bare before, so that’s not an issue.

Maybe it’s part of the  _thing_ , for Harry, though, because when they crawl into bed Harry says, “Are you- are you sure. You don’t want me to get a condom?" 

His voice is nervous, and he’s toying with the hem of Niall’s shirt. 

"You want it, don’t you?” Niall says, thinking on his feet. “Like, you want me to - to fill you up. Don’t you, love." 

Harry goes breathless, nods a few times, tugging at Niall’s shirt. 

"Fill you up, and get you- get you nice and full with my babies, right, love?” Niall says, face going hot. “Knock you right up." 

” _God_ ,“ Harry says shakily, splaying his legs open. "Yeah, fuck, c'mon, fuck me." 

This isn’t Niall’s kink, but it’s not exactly a hardship to have Harry Styles with his legs open and his face pink, begging for a shag. 

"Yeah, love,” Niall says, yanking off his t-shirt, and Harry does the same. 

“Mm, get those tits out,” Niall says, laughing a little, leaning down to kiss at Harry’s pink nipples. They harden under his tongue, and Harry groans softly, arches his back shamelessly.

“Please,” he says, putting his hand on Niall’s back. “Please, fuck. I can’t wait any more." 

"Bet you can’t,” Niall murmurs, pulling back to look at him. Harry’s nipples are hard and red and the swallows stand out against his skin. There’s a faint bitemark on one pec. He’s breathing hard, watching Niall. 

“You good?” he says, under his breath, and Niall’s stomach goes tight and warm. Harry’s supposed to be the one getting taken care of and he’s asking Niall if he’s alright. Such an idiot. 

Niall wants to do right by him, suddenly, like - give Harry what he wants. Everything he wants.

“I’m good, love,” Niall says, stroking Harry’s hair back from his face. It’s long enough for a girl’s at least, spread prettily over the pillowcase. It’s not that hard to imagine, for a minute, that he’s got a bird in his bed, his - wife, girlfriend, whatever, and they’re trying for a baby. It’s weird, but it’s not hard. 

“You just sit tight,” he says, giving Harry a kiss. “And let me get you nice and - and wet." 

Harry blinks up at him gratefully, and his eyes flutter shut when Niall rubs at his hole with lube-slick fingers. 

From there on it’s mostly a normal shag, except for the way Harry goes soft and tender and doesn’t demand anything, just takes what he’s given, makes quiet breathless sounds. Harry slings his long legs up and opens up so nicely for Niall’s dick, and Niall fucks him close and tight, rocking against his arse, letting Harry feel the full bare length of him. 

"So-” Harry gasps, when Niall’s getting properly into it, sweat running down his back and Harry’s arse so silky-hot and tight around him. “So good. So good, fuck." 

"Yeah,” Niall gasps, bracing himself, driving his hips rabbit-fast. God, Harry does something to him. Niall’s head is spinning. “Yeah, love, you’re so - you’re so perfect." 

"Perfect?” Harry chokes out, mouth splitting open in a grin. He’s laughing and groaning with each thrust, loud and overcome, feet digging into Niall’s lower back. “M'perfect?" 

"Yeah, fucking - fuck, take- take such good care of you, Haz, get you all full up with my babies, kiss your stretchmarks, treat you so good-" 

"Wait on me hand and foot,” Harry says shakily, still grinning. The flush of his cheeks is spreading down his neck, blotchy red on his chest. “Get me whatever I want?" 

"Yeah, whatever- whatever you want." 

"And they’re yours,” Harry breathes out, blissfully. “Ours." 

Niall leans down into a kiss, messy and unfocused, his hips working fast. Harry’s mouth is so wet and open, and he keeps gasping out these rough little sighs, like he can’t hold it back. 

"Ours,” Harry says against his mouth, and somehow Niall can sense the hesitance in it, like Harry’s still scared, even now, that Niall’s gonna back out. 

“Ours,” Niall mumbles back to him. “I promise, our babies, Hazza." 

” _God,_ fuck, yes,“ Harry chokes out, as he comes hot over his belly, spurting between them. Niall watches him, and then tips right over the edge himself, unexpectedly, his eyes screwing shut as he comes inside Harry. 

Harry gasps, clenching around Niall’s dick, and Niall forces his eyes open just to watch the awed expression on Harry’s face. 

They breathe deep in unison for a second and then Harry says, softly, "You came inside me." 

"Yep,” Niall says, huffing a laugh. 

“We’re really doing this." 

Niall pets his hair, and Harry beams up at him. 

"S'pose we are." 

Harry pulls him down by the back of his head, kisses him hard. 

"Thanks,” he mumbles against Niall’s mouth. 

Niall just pulls out, carefully, and sits up. His body is buzzing, still shaky. He stretches, feeling only a little smug. It’s just - Harry. It’d make anyone smug, to fuck Harry like that. 

When he turns around, he nearly bursts out laughing. 

Harry’s turned himself around, and he’s lying on his back with his legs at a ninety-degree angle, pressed against the wall. 

“What the fuck are you doing,” Niall says, snorting. 

“We want it to take, don’t we?” Harry asks, peering at him upside down. 

Niall just laughs, scrubs a hand over his face. 

“Lou told me this helps,” Harry says, sounding petulant. 

“Did you actually ask Lou - wait, did she actually? Like, does it actually help? With girls? Is that a _thing_?”  

Harry declines to answer, just starts humming, shifting his feet against the wall. Niall wrinkles his nose - Harry’s probably getting come on his pillows, he’ll have to do the laundry tomorrow - and stands up to sort himself out. 

When he comes back from the bathroom, Harry’s lying down like a normal person, feet tucked under the covers. There are two pillows and Niall’s topsheet crumpled on the floor, and when Niall looks at them suspiciously, Harry says, sleepily, “Baby-making’s a messy business, Niall." 

Niall huffs a laugh. "You could at least take the bloody pillowcases off, pop 'em in the hamper-" 

"I need to focus on creating life,” Harry says, yawning, and he winks up at Niall as he turns onto his side, pats the bed next to him. “C'mere, stud." 

Niall pulls a face, but he crawls in next to Harry. 

Harry likes to be the big spoon, usually, but tonight he practically manhandles Niall in position behind him, grabs Niall’s hand and pulls it til it’s resting over his stomach. 

Niall rubs back and forth a few times, imagines it for a minute, Harry with a big pregnant belly and tits. It’d be pretty odd.

He’s half-asleep and lost in a weird dream of Harry letting all four of them suck his nipples when Harry says, softly, "Hey, thanks.”

“Mmgh,” Niall mutters, putting his face to the soft nape of Harry’s neck. “S'alright." 

Harry tightens his hand around Niall’s. "You’ll be a sick dad someday." 

"Shagging you doesn’t have any bearing on me being a bleedin’ dad,” Niall says, sleepily, breathing out a laugh. “You idiot." 

"It does,” Harry murmurs. “You take good care of me." 

"Shut up, Harry." 

Harry snuggles back against him. "Good night, Niall." 

Niall shuts his eyes, presses his fingers against the warm skin of Harry’s belly, just for a second. "Good night.”

**five:**

It takes them a while to find the right opportunity. They don’t even plan for it, when it actually happens, but they’re all in one hotel room, the girlfriends are in town minus Pezza, and everyone’s high or drunk or both. Niall sees Harry look at him from across the room, arch an eyebrow, and Niall nods back. 

They sit close together on the plush-carpeted floor, one blanket over them both, as Eleanor deals cards and Louis repacks his pipe. Sophia and Liam are curled together, and Zayn looks bored, sleepy. 

Under the blanket, Harry reaches out and gives Niall’s thigh a squeeze. 

“What are we playing again?” Niall asks, putting his hand over Harry’s, to communicate that he’s up for it. Of course, it’s  _Harry_ , so Harry just turns his hand over, laces their fingers together, leans happily against his shoulder. 

Zayn’s eyeing them both suspiciously. Niall smiles innocently back, waves with his free hand. 

“We’re playing Red Robin, Niall, I’ve told you a million times,” Louis says impatiently. 

“How’s that one go again?” Liam asks, and Louis looks up with a fierce expression on his face. 

“Leemo-" 

"We’ll play as a team,” Sophia says smoothly, patting Liam’s hand. “I’ll help." 

Liam should probably be insulted, but instead he turns to her and kisses her. 

"Thanks, babe,” he says, smiling stupidly. Niall rolls his eyes, and Zayn catches him, gives him a wink. Niall winks back, and Zayn looks pointedly at where Harry’s snuggled into Niall’s shoulder, raises an eyebrow. 

Niall nods assuredly, like,  _nothing to see here_. Zayn laughs, takes the pipe from El and takes a long hit, eyes closing. 

“Can Niall and I be a team as well?” Harry asks. His voice is just slightly slurred. He might pass out before they even get anywhere. 

“Ugh, fine, should we just play teams?” Louis says, huffing out a breath. “El, you can be with Zayn. I’m the only one of you lot fit to play by myself.”  

“Nah, I think I’m off to bed,” Zayn says, passing the pipe to Sophia and unfolding his legs from under him. 

“Zayn!” Louis snaps. 

“No, don’t go,” Niall says, monotone, and Zayn laughs at him, flips him the bird. Niall pretends he’s taking it, slips it in his pocket and blows Zayn a kiss. 

“Sorry, lads,” Zayn says. “And ladies. Have fun." 

"Night, Zayn,” they chorus, and he lets himself out. 

Louis sighs again, long-sufferingly. 

“Fine,” he says. “Three teams, then." 

Niall reaches forward to take their cards, and he’s sorting them in his hand when Harry moves his hand from Niall’s thigh to his dick. Niall’s wearing soft trackies and no pants, and Harry’s hand molds around the shape of it, squeezes gently, pressing down with intent. 

Niall chokes a breath, catches himself. 

"You can’t see our cards, can you?” he asks, trying to cover the sound he just made, shielding his hand from Liam. 

“I don’t cheat!” Liam says, voice rising. He’s defended himself against charges of cheating many times before, mostly because it’s Louis’ go-to accusation whenever he’s losing literally any game. 

Niall points at his own eyes with two fingers, then at Liam, looking stern. 

Liam sticks out his tongue, and Niall looks back at his hand, just as Harry grips his cock again. 

Niall twitches, all the way down his spine. 

“Good hand,” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t break. 

“Woop dee fucking doo, Niall,” Louis says sourly, obviously not as positive about his own cards. Eleanor looks pretty grim. She’s almost as mental as Louis is when it comes to card games. “It’s your fucking turn, you’re to the left of me.”

Niall sets down a four, lets out a shaky breath. Harry’s studying the cards in Niall’s hand while he presses his fingertips all along the line of Niall’s hardening cock, and Niall thanks  _God_  that the blanket over their laps is thick enough to disguise the movement of Harry’s hand. If Louis catches on, everyone in the room is probably going to see Niall’s dick. Niall’s not entirely sure how, but that’s just how Louis operates. 

Liam puts down two sixes, Sophia nodding approvingly before he plays.  

Niall’s watching Louis pick up the hand when Harry’s hand slips into his trackies, spreads hot and bare against Niall’s dick. Oh, alright, so he’s - serious about this. 

“Hmm,” Niall says, thoughtfully, his breath catching in his throat when Harry’s rings press against the shaft, cold. “Umm. Let me see." 

"You can play whatever you fucking have, Niall!” Louis snaps. “Get on with it!" 

Niall puts down a five, picks up a card, re-shuffles. Harry’s hand is curved, dry and warm, around the shaft of Niall’s prick, and he’s starting to wank him, in tiny subtle movements. Niall’s going to come, in front of everyone. Harry won’t stop, won’t spare him, because Harry never stops. Harry will bring him off right fucking here. 

Niall swallows hard. 

"Can I take a hit?” he says, and Eleanor hands the pipe over, not even looking down. She passes Niall the lighter, and Niall whispers a  _cheers_  as Harry presses his thumb to the head, skimming off the helpless bead of precome that’s leaked out of him. 

Niall clenches his thigh muscles, lifts the pipe to his mouth. His hit is wobbly and weak, and he coughs most of it out. 

Liam beckons for it. Niall hands it over. 

“Here,” Harry says, voice unexpectedly close against Niall’s ear. His breath is hot. “Play that seven, you haven’t got another option." 

Niall could put down his ace, but he sees Harry’s point. 

"Good strategy, Styles,” he says, grinning at him, and for a second he thinks Harry is going to kiss him. 

Harry doesn’t, though. He just puts his head against Niall’s shoulder again, and slides his hand down Niall’s dick, fingers groping against his balls. 

Niall huffs out a hard breath. 

“Nice play, Leemo,” he says, when Liam puts down a two on the seven, grinning. 

Neither Sophia nor Liam look up. Niall feels a bit like he’s in a different world, or something, because no one else is noticing, and Harry’s jerking him off. Harry’s using his hand to make Niall come, and they’re playing a fucking card game. Niall can feel a flush starting to burn, high on his cheeks, and he reaches up with one hand to palm sweat off his forehead. 

“Alright?” Harry says softly. 

“Great,” Niall says, shakily. “Fine. Perfect." 

Harry hums out something that could be a laugh. He’s using Niall’s slick to wank him off, and it’s still too dry but it feels so fucking good, it feels- 

Niall’s knee jerks up compulsively, and he tucks it in front of him, so the blanket falls over it and Harry’s hand is hidden behind his thigh. 

"God,” he breathes out, as Harry pinches the head of his dick gently, letting out a soft sigh against Niall’s ear. “G-god, Louis, go, it’s your t-turn." 

"Don’t rush me, Horan,” Louis says, and Eleanor plucks a card out of their hand and sets it down. 

Niall wants to moan. He wants to close his eyes, because it feels so good and his skin is sparking all over like he’s going to explode. He wants, he wants- 

He throws down his ace, digs his fingers into the blanket over his knee, hard. He’s quivering.

“Bastard!” Liam mutters, picking up the cards. 

“Sorry, Liam,” Harry says slowly, even as his hand speeds up under the blanket. Niall coughs to cover the noise of skin on skin. There’s music playing off Liam’s laptop, but it’s not enough on its own, and Niall’s whole face is flushed now, he can feel it. It feels so obvious. 

“You okay, babe?” Sophia asks him, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “You’re all red." 

"It’s hot in here,” Niall says, fanning himself. “Think that last hit knocked me out, I’m fucked." 

"Don’t you dare go to bed until I win this game,” Louis says. 

“I’ll be waiting a while then,” Niall says, grinning at them. 

Louis glares at him, and then looks away just in time for the grin to slip straight off Niall’s face as Harry rubs his thumb over the slit, over and over, in Niall’s most sensitive spot. Niall’s knee jerks again, and he makes a choked sound. 

“Oh,” he says, breathless, more of a gasp than a word. “I- I’m - I got a-" 

He throws down his last card, ducks his face into his knee and comes, muffling a loud harsh breath in the blanket as he spurts into Harry’s palm. 

"I’m gonna win!” he chokes out, lifting his head immediately, trying to shake off the full-body shiver of orgasm, trying to look normal. Harry’s still jerking him slowly, working the come out of him, and Niall just wants to give in to it. He can’t. He fucking can’t. “I’m so gonna win." 

"You’re wasted,” Liam says, laughing. 

“And you just played a three, you twat,” Louis snorts. “Pick up the pile." 

"I - I thought that was an ace,” Niall lies, heaving out a sigh. “Shit." 

Beside him, Harry chokes out a laugh, as Niall reaches forward to pick up the cards. His fingers are trembling. 

"Not winning tonight, Mr. Horan,” Louis mutters to himself, studying his cards. Eleanor taps one with her long fingernails, and Louis nods, his eyes narrowed. 

“Really thought it was an ace,” Niall says again, scrubbing the flush off his cheeks. Harry runs his fingertips gently up Niall’s soft cock, then tugs up his sweatpants, slides his hand back onto Niall’s thigh like nothing’s happened. 

“And  _I’m_  the stupid one,” Liam says, shaking his head. 

“You’re not stupid, babe,” Sophia murmurs. 

“Yeah, Liam, you’re not stupid, you’re just  _special_ ,” Louis says sweetly, and Niall puts his face against Harry’s cheek to laugh open-mouthed. 

“Hate you,” he breathes out into Harry’s ear, and he can feel how Harry’s cheek curves as he smiles. 


End file.
